


A Poet, A Prophet, A Motherfucking Puppet

by redbranch



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: A very well planned gangbang, BDSM, Consulting your lawyer for sex, Dirty Talk, Excel spreadsheets for sex, Gags, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multi, One call that's all, Other, Rope Bondage, Scrapbooking for sinners, Spanking, Sub Frank Iero, Suspension, Verbal Humiliation, Warped Tour, Without the gangbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbranch/pseuds/redbranch
Summary: Frank has some very dirty fantasies and some very obliging bandmates that help make all his dreams come true.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Everyone, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Ray Toro
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	A Poet, A Prophet, A Motherfucking Puppet

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot BELIEVE I'm letting this see the light of day I truly cannot fucking believe this but you know what? It's 2020 babes, and nothing matters anymore. We live in hell, so let me purge this from my cursed drafts folder. 
> 
> This is a work of FICTION and reflects 0% on any of the people whose likenesses have been borrowed for this horrifically smutty story. Also this is a terrible idea for a real life scene. So, you know, don't do that.

Frank noticed his breathing coming in shallow pants.

That wouldn’t do. 

He closed his eyes behind his blindfold, trying to find the right place in his lungs and sit with it, expand it, relax his diaphragm. The ropes bit into his sides the more his rib cage expanded with deep breaths, but that was welcome. Sometimes when he was in suspension for a while, he stopped really noticing the bonds around his limbs. It was good to have the reminder.

Maybe dangling naked and trussed up in the back lounge of the tour bus wasn’t exactly what Frank had envisioned when they first signed up for Warped Tour for the summer, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He knew getting to this moment had taken a lot of planning. It had been a summer-long project for the guys. He was pretty sure Ray had a spreadsheet somewhere, keeping track of potential candidates, who they’d gauged interest from in whispered backstage conversations, who they’d brought onto the bus for a formal grilling, who Frank knew, who Frank DIDN’T know. It was honestly sweet how they’d all come together to make his fantasy come true and how they made sure to see to his needs. They had done a few practice runs with just the guys, another with a few close trusted friends. Frank had outlined his limits before they started, but they all took stock after each new scene, checking to see if anything had changed, if he had the stamina to be bound for longer and longer time periods, if he had any new requests. 

Warped was coming to a close in two weeks, and Frank was finally ready. 

He knew Ray was trying to make it seem like no big deal when he was stringing him up, just like all the other times. His checking of the tension had been perfunctory, his banter nonexistent, just asking Frank for his color and uttering a simple “Good.” when he confirmed he was green. But still even blindfolded he’d noticed him pause just for a second before he left the lounge, felt the warm touch of his palm on his shoulder in a simple parting gesture before he’d left the room, silently wishing him good luck.

It had been hard to get the guys to agree to leave him alone for this part. They had been adamant about constant supervision from beginning to end, but Frank had finally managed to wear them down and convince them that it would be okay for him to be solo until the first person—or persons, fuck—had arrived. That in fact that was kind of part of it for Frank. He wanted it that way. He liked it. 

He would have preferred to be gagged, but that was part of the compromise: no gags while he was alone so he could yell for help if he needed it. Being alone allowed him to take stock of his body, to really feel how exposed he was with his legs tied apart, ass bare to the air, dick hanging vulnerably beneath him and already filling out even within the confines of his cock ring. It was amazing how Ray Toro had become a serious rope aficionado in such a short amount of time once Frank admitted that he wanted it. But maybe Frank shouldn’t have been surprised. It did fit his penchant for obsessing and finessing any new hobby he took on. The amount of times he’d come into the back lounge to get something only to find Ray practicing a tie on himself had become too numerous to count. 

Frank appreciated it. His dick appreciated it. The even pressure on his arms bound behind his back, on the ropes supporting his chest and winding around his bent butterflied legs—he felt debauched without anyone even having touched him yet. He asked for this, begged for this. And he got it. There was no room anymore to pretend that he wasn’t completely, absolutely a whore.

He wasn’t sure how long he hung there. Long enough for his breathing to even out and a pleasant fuzz to fill his head as he settled into rope space. Long enough to be startled when he heard the door open. 

Frank’s senses suddenly felt heightened. The door shut quietly and there was a pause before the sound of a few slow footsteps. Frank listened intently, trying to map them like a fucking bat. They had done trial runs, sure, but the guys had been careful not to clue him in to the exact itinerary. He’d wanted to be kept on his toes. 

The footsteps stopped somewhere near his side, and then there was only silence. 

It grew heavier with every second, and Frank felt his heart begin to flutter. He tried to breathe more shallowly to hear better, but it only made him more aware of his own sounds and the dead silence surrounding him. 

Warm fingertips brushed against his back. The pressure was light, but still Frank gasped, goosebumps automatically rising on his skin. 

“You’ve had us orchestrate quite the show, Frankie,” came Gerard’s voice, low and with a hint of his stage twang. His fingers travelled up Frank’s back, following the lines of the ropes. “I’d say you’re a pretty high-maintenance slut. It’s taken us months to get this thing planned. The scouting, the interviews, the NDAs, the budget--because you’re so much of a whore that being able to take their cum was one of your must-haves.”

Suddenly Gerard’s hand was in his hair, yanking him up by the mohawk so much his neck strained and he let out a little yelp. “Do you know how much it costs to STD test practically a quarter of the entire Warped Tour?” he said into his ear. 

Frank shuddered but didn’t answer. Knew he wasn’t supposed to. Gerard let him go and Frank’s head dropped like a rock, hanging beneath him. 

“But how could we resist when you told us what you wanted? That you wanted to be used like a toy on tour.” Gerard was pacing now, each footstep clear in Frank’s ears. “That you wanted us to whore you out to our friends. That you wanted to be covered in their cum.” The footsteps stopped in front of Frank, and then he felt gentle fingers on his chin, pulling his face up. Gerard’s thumb brushed across Frank’s bottom lip, and Frank felt his hair being pushed back off his face. “Do you still want that, Frankie?” Gerard asked, and he sounded more like himself, the stage accent gone. 

Frank’s breathing was shaky, his dick hard as a rock. He was sure he was flushing, every part of his body betraying the answer before he even spoke. “Y-yes. Please… I want it,” he said. 

Gerard hummed his approval, and then they were kissing. It was surprisingly sweet, given the circumstances. Gerard slipped his tongue into his mouth, and Frank moaned softly. He wished so badly that he could touch him.

Finally Gerard pulled away, but he lingered for a moment, tracing the line of Frank’s jaw. “You look so pretty like this,” he said. “I wish I could show you off to everyone.” 

He pressed one last kiss to Frank’s cheek and then let him go, getting back to his feet. “I guess this is the closest I can get. And I’m fine with that.” 

Frank heard his footsteps walk away, and then there was rustling: Gerard rummaging in a bag. Frank’s heart was still pounding, really feeling now how immobile he was, exposed and fully at his band mate’s mercy.

“I brought the extras you wanted,” Gerard finally said, his stage accent back. He stepped in front of Frank, pulling his face up by the chin again, but this time without nearly as much gentleness. “Pucker up, honey,” he said, and then Frank felt him filling in his lips with lipstick. This one had been Gerard’s idea. Red lipstick was already one of Frank’s requests so whoever came through could graffiti his body with whatever they wanted. Gerard had looked at him with a gleam in his eye, asking why they couldn’t also use the lipstick as lipstick and “make him look nice.”

Frank had to admit, that was pretty hot.

Gerard ran his thumb across the edge of Frank’s lip, correcting a smear. “Perfect,” he said. “That’s definitely your color.” The tube capped with a sharp snap and Gerard chuckled. “You can’t be a whore without red lips.” 

Frank’s cheeks burned. Somehow that felt more scandalous than hanging in suspension.

The tube clinked as Gerard placed it on the side table, followed by the sounds of more objects being carefully placed. “What have I got here, Frankie?” he asked. “Tell me what you asked for.”

This was Gerard’s thing, without a doubt. He loved to make Frank say it out loud. He loved to force him to admit how much he liked it. “The lipstick,” he said, voice hoarse. “The plugs. The… the gags.” Frank had vivid memories of testing the gags, of how Ray’s constant niceness faltered when he was presented with the opportunity to facefuck Frank in a spider gag. 

A loud smack and pain suddenly bloomed on Frank’s left hip, making him yelp. “What else, slut?” Gerard demanded. 

“The flogger,” he answered in a rush. “Fucking… the flogger and… m-my leash…”

Gerard’s hands were on his neck now, subtly dipping his fingers into the leather collar Frank was wearing to check the tightness as he clipped the leash into place on the D ring. Frank’s dick twitched in a Pavlovian response at the familiar tinkling sound of the chain as Gerard let it drop to dangle down to the floor. 

“The last thing?” he murmured. 

Frank swallowed hard. He must have been tomato red by now. “It’s… th-the… the camera.”

A loud snap and whirr startled him, and Gerard snickered. “Sorry, should’ve had you say cheese first. We’ll call this one the before picture.” 

He pulled Frank’s head up again. “Kiss,” he said, and Frank puckered his lips only to feel Gerard pressing a thick square of photo paper against them. 

“This was the filthiest one. The fucking Polaroids. What are you gonna do with them, huh? Make a slutty scrapbook? Answer me, Frank.” 

His hand clenched and unclenched behind his back, his only physical outlet for his nerves. “I-I don’t know,” he said. “I just… just wanted to see what it looked like.” He couldn’t even imagine how the photos would turn out. His own body, his tattoos criss-crossed by rope, smeared in lipstick, shining with cum. Seeing himself being fucked. Seeing himself liking it.

“Will you jack off to them later?” Gerard asked.

Frank’s diaphragm tightened, and he was grateful that the blindfold meant he didn’t have to look Gerard in the eye. “I… probably,” he answered. 

Gerard laughed and stepped away, rummaging in his bag again. “I would,” he said. “I know I’ll be jacking off to this until the day my dick falls off.” 

The distinctive click of a bottle cap caught Frank’s attention, and he felt goosebumps start to raise on his skin as Gerard moved behind him. “I have to prep you,” he said, setting something cool and hard on Frank’s back, like he was a convenient makeshift table. “Even though I feel like by now you should be a champion at taking anything up your ass.” Gerard grabbed a handful of his ass, kneading it in his fingers before giving it a sharp smack that made Frank jerk in his restraints. “But common courtesy, I guess…” 

Even though he was blindfolded, Frank found himself blinking, instinctively trying to see as he felt the steady pressure of Gerard’s slicked fingers working against his muscle. “You know what I’ve thought about, Frankie?” he said as he pressed two of his fingertips inside. 

Frank couldn’t control the sound he made, every cell in his body focused on the feeling of his friend’s fingers sinking deeper inside of him. “What?” he asked breathlessly, because he wanted to know. Because he might do it. Because being stung up in the back of a tour van waiting for strangers to fuck the life out of him because he _asked for it_ meant there truly was no use pretending to be respectable anymore. 

Gerard’s fingers slid back and forth, gaining ground on each new thrust in. “I’ve thought about making you play a show in a cock cage.” Frank hissed and there was no telling if it was from Gerard’s words or his third finger beginning to slip inside of him. “Keep that shit under control, ya know? Maybe we’d let you out after… or maybe we wouldn’t.” Gerard laughed and Frank moaned as a fourth finger began to stretch his entrance and the burn really set in. 

He thought about it. He’d only ever been in an actual cock cage once, just to try it. It had been torture, a distinct feeling of being pulled apart at the seams from being horny as hell and yet suffering the constant ache of being forced flaccid. He’d sobbed embarrassingly when he’d finally been pushed over the edge, his prostate winning over the confinement of his dick. He hated it. He loved it. The thought of doing it on stage terrified him. 

“Yes,” he whimpered as Gerard kept massaging him, working his inner walls until the burn began to ebb away. “Please,” he said. “Please, I want it.” His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears, begging to be somebody’s bitch. 

“Wow. A packed schedule of nice people waiting patiently to use you today, you haven’t even had your first one, and already it’s on to the next.” Gerard slid his fingers out, wiping the excess lube on one of Frank’s thighs. “You really are greedy.” The object Gerard had left on his back disappeared, and then Frank felt the familiar tip of a heavy metal plug slipping easily into place, making Frank groan as he closed around the end of it. 

He remembered arguing that the plug was unnecessary since it would just get taken out, but Gerard, ever one for presentation, overruled him. _“It's symbolic,”_ he’d said. _“They get to open their shiny new toy.”_ That sealed the deal for the ballgag in Frank’s mouth, too. Gerard’s fingers held him in place as he buckled it snugly behind Frank’s head, being careful not to catch his hair in it. 

When he’d fitted the ball just so between Frank’s teeth, Gerard stepped back and sighed. Frank hadn’t even really done anything yet and he already felt debauched. He was sure he looked it, too. “I have to say, you do make a pretty picture, Frankie.” He combed through Frank’s hair affectionately. “Do you want to know how many there are?” he asked, his voice soft. 

Frank hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. They’d done well at keeping him in the dark about those kinds of specifics. Frank trusted them of course. He knew they all respected his limits, that they knew how to push him in the right kinds of ways. But still, there was a part of him, probably the part that ensured his fucking ancestors survived and shit, that wanted to know what waited beyond the lounge door. 

Gerard stroked his cheek, careful not to get too close to his fresh lipstick. “Tough. You don’t get to know how many there are. You don’t get to know who they are, either. Not from me anyway.” His voice was kind and gentle, but his words stirred up the part of Frank that hated feeling so helpless, and the other part that loved how much he hated it. 

“Of course, they’re not allowed to tell anyone else--we made sure of that,” Gerard continued. “But they can tell you. If they want. Maybe some of them will, when you’re watching a show from the wings or shooting the shit at a party. Maybe they’ll whisper in your ear how good your mouth felt, let you know if they left a load inside your ass. Or maybe they won’t tell you. Maybe you’ll run into one of them on tour and they’ll look at you, and you’ll know. Or maybe you won’t. Or maybe you’ll think you know, but you’ll guess wrong. You’ll go the rest of Warped, hell, the rest of your life, never being sure if the guy you’re talking to saw you like this and fucked you like a whore on this bus.” Gerard yanked on Frank’s mohawk suddenly, snapping his head back and pulling hard on the strands. “How do you feel about that, Frankie?” he murmured.

 _“Dramatic fucker, fucking monologuing motherfucker,”_ Frank thought, but he knew his high whine was answer enough when Gerard let him go. He craved it, and it was written all over him. 

He felt him again next at his side, pressing their safeword replacement into the palm of Frank’s bound right hand. It was technically a cat toy: a very annoying sounding jingle ball that fit comfortably in Frank’s fist. “You know the drill: drop it and we’ll stop, okay?” 

Frank nodded and grunted out something he hoped sounded agreeable around the gag in his mouth, his saliva already escaping around the edges. 

Gerard’s fingers traveled from his hand down his back, over his ass, across his thigh, and along his calf until he was tracing the curve of Frank’s ankle, the arch of his foot, and then vanishing at his toes. 

_“DRAMATIC! FUCKER!”_ Frank thought, but he knew he was trembling anyway, vibrating with anticipation. 

There was a heavy pause, and Frank heard his heartbeat begin to race in his ears, blood rushing to fill the silence. His brain was spinning through every scenario. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He couldn’t believe they’d agreed. What if someone broke their NDA? What if everyone ended up knowing that Frank Iero got his rocks off by being railed by total strangers?

His cock twitched at the thought. God, he really was a slut. 

Gerard rapped twice on the lounge door and called, “Bring in the first one!”

And then the door opened.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. Let's see how long it takes me to have extreme regret about this fic and delete it. Get it while it's fresh, guys!
> 
> Thanks also for anyone who's left a kind comment on my stuff while I haven't been posting. I see them all and I appreciate it. I probably will not return to posting regularly, but never say never I guess.


End file.
